


You Write Such Pretty Words, But Life's No Story Book

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Series: The "Bright Eyes (Granta Omega)" 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi Quest Series - Jude Watson
Genre: Fuck Me Obi-Wan Kenobi You're My Only Hope, Indulgence Day, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Sex Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Anakin's abduction by Granta Omega, the Padawan and his Master meditate, and try to work through the past in order to prepare for their collective future. Dubious sequel to "I Want a Boy Who's So Drunk He Doesn't Talk."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Write Such Pretty Words, But Life's No Story Book

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Want a Boy Who's So Drunk He Doesn't Talk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/844250) by [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess). 



> I feel like this is the last bit of this universe, but ... you never know. I also feel like I need to crank out something a bit happier next, or at least not massive angst porn, but again, we'll see! Once again, rated M/R for disturbing, underage content and (mostly implied) non-con/rape descriptions. Takes place about two months after "I Want a Boy ..." Title also comes from Bright Eyes' "Lover I Don't Have to Love."

Whereas he used to regard Master Obi-Wan's numerous daily meditation sessions as a nuisance, something against which to time his own meals or naps or some such, in the wake of his kidnapping by Granta Omega, sixteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker finds himself much more dutifully trailing in his mentor's footsteps. Through meditation, Obi-Wan promises, Anakin can learn many things, including how to disassociate his mind from his body under times of duress, as well as simply how to connect his body more thoroughly to the Force itself. For his part, Obi-Wan has always found the frenetic 'droid tinkering that Anakin calls 'moving meditation' to be rather difficult to understand; this, Anakin thinks, is because Obi-Wan just seems to be preternaturally good at sitting stock-still for hours upon end. Nonetheless, Obi-Wan does not stifle his Padawan's methods - whatever works, even a little bit, where Anakin is concerned is a gift from the very Force itself, after all - and yet he consistently tries to get Anakin to take a page out of his book once in a while, as well, hoping that it will help to bring the boy peace.

And so, now: "Anakin? Did you still want to join me this afternoon? I'm ready now." The older man sits on his well-worn meditation mat, the very one he had used since he was himself a Padawan, legs crossed loosely, hands resting lightly on his knees. In front of him, a slightly melted candle burns in the center of a long, low-slung table. Their living quarters are characteristically sparse, both for typical Jedi and for Obi-Wan, though Qui-Gon always kept several small, green plants in various windows and nooks, and Anakin has seen fit to keep many of them alive since, as Obi-Wan had told him ruefully once, early on into his apprenticeship, his new Master had not been blessed by the Living Force with "a green thumb."

The boy makes his way out of his small, private bedroom, then, dressed in a light-colored tunic, obi knotted around his waist instead of wrapped properly, and sans utility belt and boots. His Padawan braid, newly attached after Omega had so cruelly cut it off - he'd done it with an ornate knife, Obi-Wan had since learned, which he had then run along the side of the boy's face, taking particular pleasure in drawing blood as close as he had to Anakin's jugular without actually killing him. Obi-Wan felt a significant amount of rage every time he thought of Anakin's captivity; not a Jedi trait, of course, and he worked hard - perhaps too hard - through meditation sessions such as these to release such emotions into the Force, to not let them dictate his present and his future, even though they had been such a formative part of his past. 

At the same time, he thinks now, watching Anakin pad across the room in his bare feet, his small-ish face pensive - he'd been so serious for the past couple of months, more so than in the past, as though someone had quite literally reached inside of him and stolen what remained of his innocence, and it made Obi-Wan's heart ache, and then burn with fury on his Padawan's behalf - anger has been constructive at times, as well. Strong emotions on either end of the spectrum have always followed Anakin like a moth to light; he wouldn't be Anakin, the elder man suspects, without the particular intensity of his feelings. And so while he will always strive to help Anakin find some peace between the particularly high and low points of his calling, at the same time, he suspects that Anakin will always have a need to feel more strongly than any other Jedi, least of all himself. To be further frank, Anakin's susceptibility to and the need to tamp down on his emotions through non-traditional methods (death sticks, drinks that unnecessarily loose age restrictions at the Outlander club have wrought) is quite likely what drew Granta Omega and Jenna Zan Arbor to him in the first place. It is yet another reason that Obi-Wan must work so hard to get his own emotions under control, because, of course, it won't do his Padawan any good if Obi-Wan is felled by foolhardiness or naiveté whilst trying to keep him safe. 

Satisfied that Anakin has appeared, Obi-Wan pats the space in front of him. "Come, Anakin, join me," he invites. His Padawan has just become taller than he is, but sitting down, it is more difficult to notice. Plopping unceremoniously and directly in front of him, Anakin scoots himself more snugly into place, and then, as he begins to cross his legs in the style of his Master, seems to change his mind and, twisting his upper half slightly at the torso, leans against Obi-Wan, wrapping his arms around the other man, just underneath his arms. "Padawan ..." Obi-Wan starts, because this is hardly proper meditation pose or procedure, but the boy nuzzles needily into the crook of his neck and he gives in. "Honestly, Anakin, you could have just asked," he complains, but allows the boy to keep snuggling him, and even tugs him closer by way of settling Anakin in his own arms. Perhaps he's getting too big for this; perhaps he was always too big for it, even. Nonetheless, the Force sighs serenely around them as Anakin's eyelashes brush ever-so-lightly at his throat, and Obi-Wan lets his (lighthearted) grousing peter off into a soft smile.

In front of him, Anakin looks up a little. "'s always kinda weird to ask for stuff like this," he murmurs, and it's an astute observation. The nature of the Order has always been ascetic, unerringly unemotional, and Obi-Wan Kenobi has often been one of its more elaborately prude members. Naturally, this is why many of Anakin's exploits, his overt cravings for love, affection, attention, positive or otherwise, tend to trouble the older man beyond simply needing to correct his Padawan's bad behavior; because he himself has found the need to be diligent in controlling his feelings always - when you don't, he has learned the hard way, esteemed Jedi Masters pass you over for apprenticeship, and rival Padawan initiates fall to their deaths after an unfortunate grudge match atop a waterfall (he's never been able to look at that particular spot in the same way since Bruck Chun's unfortunate demise, really) - and so even if he understands Anakin's cravings, he can never give in to his own, such that they are.

Eventually, the cuddling, too, peters off, and Anakin straightens, crossing his legs and assuming a pose much like Obi-Wan's. "Follow my lead, Padawan," Obi-Wan tells him, and they begin to simultaneously practice deep breathing; eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, chins high, both Master and Padawan work to clear their minds of current thought, to allow the essence of the Force to imbue itself upon their individual spirits, to fill them with its radiant light. Sometimes, this is easier than others, of course. Today, for instance, Obi-Wan's mind is a restless bundle of nerves and memories, flitting across his consciousness at lightning speed. One particular memory strains his meditative effectiveness: Back on the ship, en route home from Tatooine, he recalls how Anakin had cried, deep sobs that wracked his lean frame and had even caused a short round of hiccups once he had managed to get his breathing under control. The situation aside, Anakin's penchant for frequent crying was one of the many areas in which they differed - not only didn't Obi-Wan cry much (the death of his Master, and a particularly weak moment that he'd allowed himself in the comfort and privacy of his Master's-cum-his old/new bedroom were the rare, recent exceptions), but he found it difficult, even borderline annoying, to deal with other people's terribly overt displays of emotion. Still, Anakin had become something of an exception, as per usual, and so while in other cases, he might have snapped at the boy, or even stood uncomfortably, arms crossed over his person, while waiting for Anakin to tire himself out, at that particular juncture, he had very quickly acquiesced to taking his Padawan in his arms, much like today, and letting him cry it out.

It had lasted for quite some time; when he was finished, Obi-Wan's shirt-front, as well as Anakin's own face, were tear-smudged. "Hush, now. Peace, young one," Obi-Wan had soothed, and Anakin had just begun to smile ... when a sudden guttural sound from somewhere deep erupted. Comically, they had both looked startled, and then it happened again with not quite the same intensity, and Obi-Wan figured out its source. "I think that's your stomach, Padawan," he had noted, and sure enough, the boy's body had decided to make its hunger - Anakin had been practically starved under Omega's incredibly dubious and harmful 'care,' of course - known, loudly and clearly. 

"Sorry," Anakin had gasped, a blush now staining his cheeks. Obi-Wan, however, had simply patted the boy's flat tummy, and then turned briefly away, smiling all the while.

"Don't be. Sit at the table in the ship's dining room, Padawan. I will make you some lunch." With that, Obi-Wan had made his way to the ship's small kitchenette area, surveying the contents of the similarly tiny cooling unit for something suitable. Eventually, he had tugged two identical mealpacks from one of the shelves, which he tossed together into one lump sum on a plate, and then warmed the entire thing in the accompanying fast-cooker. Grabbing up a utensil and a glass of tap water - a bit dull, Anakin would most likely need an IV drip to recover some of his lost nutrients from the Healer's when they returned to Coruscant, but at least it was cold, and would help him get back on the track to proper dehydration, besides - he set everything directly in front of the boy at the instructed table, watching Anakin's expression shift to one of immense gratitude as the boy dug in. "It's nothing special, but we'll make sure you get some home-cooked meals after you get resettled in," Obi-Wan had noted aloud.

Anakin responded by sucking a long noodle into his mouth, trying to eat neatly/slowly, but failing. "It's perfect, Master, thank you." He swallowed his current mouthful, and then washed it down with some of the water. "Do you want some? Are you not eating because you gave it all to me?" He stopped, fork halfway to his mouth, and began pushing the plate at his Master. "We can share."

Obi-Wan, however, had merely shaken his head. "I have had the opportunity for creature comforts, Anakin," he'd said softly, and gestured at the still-heaped plate. "Please, eat it all." Visibly relieved, Anakin had dug back in with gusto, finishing everything with record speed and gulping down the water quickly enough that some dripped down his chin. "More?" Obi-Wan asked, hand extended vaguely, ready to refill the glass, ready to do whatever it would take to make things all right again. 

Anakin just shook his head, though. "I'm okay, Master. I'm full. Thank you." Sated, the boy's eyelids quickly began to droop; his head lolled forward once or twice, and Obi-Wan had briefly entertained needing to lug the teenager back to his sleep cot. "I guess I'm kinda tired, now," he had admitted then, a sign of true exhaustion from the child who was a habitual insomniac for nearly as long as Obi-Wan had known him. His next comment is innocuous, and yet, Obi-Wan can still feel his heart clench: "I haven't slept very well for the past couple of weeks."

"No, I imagine not." Still aching to think of all that his apprentice has been through, Obi-Wan nonetheless manages to keep his cool: "Please, go lie down again, Anakin. I'll wake you up when we arrive." He'd ruffled the boy's hair, then, forcibly injecting a spot of light between the seemingly unending misery. Yawning, Anakin had obeyed; and when Obi-Wan had drifted into the vicinity to see how he was faring not even ten minutes later, he was relieved, heartened, perhaps, that he had suggested something to help, to find the boy fast asleep. He'd gingerly unfurled a small, soft blanket from the end of the cot and worked it atop Anakin's prone frame, tucking it underneath Anakin's chin; then, leaning down, he'd brushed a kiss to his Padawan's forehead, and then stroked his cheek with an open palm, gratified to see Anakin lean into it a little, albeit still snoring softly. "Sleep, precious one," Obi-Wan had whispered, his voice hoarse, and then he had left Anakin alone until they'd cleared Coruscant's atmosphere. Once home, he had turned Anakin over largely to the likes of Vokara Che, though, per the boy's request - if waking up in a panic after part of a day spent in the Healer's Ward, hollering for "Obi-Wan, Master Obi-Wan, please, they hurt him, is he okay, where is he, PLEASE?" could be called a 'request' - he had not strayed far. Likewise, when the first opportunity to take Anakin back to their shared quarters arose, he had pushed the issue with unusual persistence, something that probably owed, more than any other factor, to Vokara Che eventually throwing up her hands and frowning at him severely. "Fine!" she had snapped, and it was a criticism, to be sure, but Obi-Wan had still smiled, relieved. His Padawan would most easily recover in his - in their - home, and so he had submitted himself willingly to the head Healer's scornful gaze, as well as her brusque explanations of the various medications, drips, and considerations she expected him to follow to a tee. 

He had, of course, and Anakin had recovered, growing once again strong and virile in the Force. The color in his cheeks returned, and he pushed himself to practice hard to regain the muscle strength and flexibility that had been lost during his captivity. Obi-Wan had worked him hard, but all the same, he had asked for it, and it had paid off: Though still not precisely the same now as he'd been before Omega's treachery had taken hold of all of them, Anakin most viciously, Anakin was well on his way to balancing the Force anew. "I've heard about that silly prophecy of yours," Omega had sneered at him; at the time, he had had Anakin propped in the passenger seat of the tiny ship he was personally using to transport the boy to Tatooine. Anakin's arms lashed behind his back in unforgiving durasteel binders with an electric charge, each ankle roped to a leg of his seat, and nude, save for his ever-present Force-inhibiting collar, he was a captive audience for anything the son of Xanatos deCrion wished to say (or do). "That's the reason that old hippie Master of Kenobi's saved you, isn't it?" Omega continued, twisting the knife. "He thought you were special, some golden token for the Jedi to place on a pedestal and worship for having better invisible gifts than anyone else."

"I don't know," was Anakin's monotone answer. It wasn't a lie entirely; he had thought often what Qui-Gon must have seen to make such a leap of faith as he had, what must have existed within his yet-nine-year-old soul for even the stoic, heartbroken Obi-Wan, himself still a Padawan, then, to agree to work with Anakin in Qui-Gon's stead. He honestly had yet to find an appropriate answer. He knew he was powerful, that he could be dangerous, but also that he was capable of incredible good. He suspected that Omega wasn't asking him for a philosophy lesson, however, and the guy was in the process of shipping him back to nearly the same squandered position that Qui-Gon had worked so carefully to remove him from in the first place, so ... kark Granta Omega.

"You don't know?" The other man's voice was lethally soft. The verbal jabs had continued - in addition, Omega always seemed to have plenty of things to say about Obi-Wan, something that always confused Anakin - hadn't his Master been but a young boy himself when Xanatos' evil had reared its head at its latest juncture? - and with them, the occasional freedom Omega afforded himself in reaching over and caressing Anakin's bare limbs, his softened, exposed cock. At one point, he stood up entirely while the ship was on autopilot and gripped the boy's short hair, tugging his face forward until Anakin was able to suck his cock. He'd come down the boy's throat, Anakin choking and sputtering from the lack of warning, and the mess smeared a little across his face as a result. "That's not gonna be as cute to most of your clients as you might think, brat," Omega had smirked, and Anakin had just sagged in his bonds, unable to so much as wipe his face off. Cruelly, Omega punctuated his helplessness by dragging a finger across some of the come on Anakin's chin, and then forcing the digit between the boy's lips, hooking it a little behind Anakin's bottom teeth until he propped his mouth open wider. "I'm sure your Master is much more forgiving when you suck him off, hmmm?" he mused caustically, watching Anakin swallow the offending, chilled fluid in revulsion.

Finally, Omega let go of his face. "Why do you hate Obi-Wan so much?" he asked quietly, struck by a sudden need to defend his Master's honor. "He wasn't even my age when Xanatos came back, and anyways, it wasn't his fault your dad was evil and Qui-Gon had to stop him ..." He did not get much further before Omega had backhanded him, splitting his lower lip open; his head snapped to one side, and his mouth dropped open as he hissed in as much pain as he thought he might be allowed to admit to. 

"Look now what you made me do." Omega's eyes glittered dangerously, and he gripped Anakin's chin roughly, and then rubbed his index finger across the cut, causing yet more pain. "Better start listening to me, Anakin," he said softly, and 'tsked.' "You don't want to drive away my business by looking unkempt, I can promise you that." Then he'd been taken to the facility scant hours later for 'processing,' which seemed to mean having his Padawan braid removed and then being held down by one of Omega's burly Gamorrean guards while another one slammed his meaty cock into Anakin's mouth, fucking his face and splitting his lip open even further. He was not taken to bathe, eat, or drink until well into the next rotation, and had spent the night wide awake, his wrists still bound behind his back, on the dirt floor, wishing someone would do him the kindness of putting him out of his misery, the cuts from Omega's whip during their pre-Tatooine encounter yet adding to the overall pain and terror. It had been the worst night of his captivity, and he would have nightmares about it for weeks and months to come.

Now, however, clasped lightly in his Master's arms, deep into their shared meditation session, his focus is on yet another memory, nearly three years prior to this one, from the very first time Omega had kidnapped not only Anakin, but Obi-Wan, as well. Omega's obsession with Obi-Wan was both unfounded and intense, and Anakin had watched the other man very nearly kill his Master before he - and, well, mostly, the Force, channeled raw through his then-fourteen-year-old body as a conduit - had taken matters into his own hands, rattling the very foundation of the facility in which they'd been stowed. Omega's face had been shocked - it had to be strange to traffic in the business of Jedi when he himself had absolutely no Force sensitivity whatsoever, Anakin privately felt - and then his mouth had curled into a knowing smile. "I can see I've underestimated you this time; but don't worry, child, we'll meet again." He had left, then - escaped, really, possibly without even knowing Anakin's full name at that point - but Anakin's main concern had been cutting Obi-Wan, drugged and bound, his head lolling forward sleepily, free from the chair in which he'd been slumped, and getting him back aboard their ship and back home to the Temple, where everything made more sense. At least there, his peers were only rude and jealous; at least there, nobody stalked him and his Master across multiple systems and then tried to conduct illegal, unethical experiments on them, besides. 

Once they were aboard the ship, which Anakin was able to expertly pilot into free space, even after everything that had happened, he had rushed back to his Master's side, Obi-Wan sprawled with less poise than usual atop a thin mattress; their roles would be reversed in the abduction to follow, of course, but at that point, Anakin had hovered worriedly over Obi-Wan, combing his hair gingerly from his face, checking his pulse repeatedly, willing him to wake up, to be okay again. His Master drank sometimes, but never to excess, and the drugs he had been given seemed to be strong; he watched Obi-Wan's head roll from side to side a little, and suddenly, it was too much: He began crying bitterly, shoving his face flat against Obi-Wan's still in-tact outer tunic, his shoulders shaking as he released through his sobs all that had happened, the abject fear of losing his Master - he hadn't been present for Qui-Gon's actual death, but he'd seen the body at the funeral service, and had never quite gotten over it; to actually have Obi-Wan slump heavily in his arms as he took his last breath was an utterly unbearable thought - palpable between them. 

His crying jag must have been intense, resonating through the Force, as so much of Anakin's livelihood seemed to, because Obi-Wan was eventually roused from his half-slumber, eyes opening to razor-thin blue slits. "P-Padawan?" he queried, and Anakin's head snapped up, eyes red rimmed, cheeks wet. "Anakin? What happened with Granta Omega?" he asked.

Anakin sniffled loudly. "We g-got away, Master. I think I did ... something. With the Force." His eyes trained on the bruise blossoming across his Master's face where Omega had seen fit to rough him up, wanting to touch it, but not wanting to overstep his boundaries, such that they were.

Obi-Wan stared back at him, as though he, too, saw something particularly prescient in (or on) Anakin. "I felt it," he marveled softly a moment later. "Such boundless energy. It was ... incredible." He reached up, cupped the boy's face, and it scrunched up again, against another onslaught of impending tears. "You did that, Anakin," his Master said, utterly in awe. He patted his apprentice's cheek and then his shoulder. "Good job, little one."

Anakin lost it again. "Master," he gasped, and Obi-Wan had held him weakly as they funneled their way back towards the galaxy's Core Worlds, back to where things made the most sense. Perhaps, in retrospect, they had made too much sense; normality quickly reigned anew - Anakin was a teenager in his own right, now, and that came with its own built-in adversity, apropos of nothing Omega could throw at them - and with it, both Master and Padawan had gotten complacent, unaware that on the outside, their adversary was only getting stronger, biding his time, becoming increasingly impressed by not just the evolution of Obi-Wan Kenobi, but the young Chosen One, as well. He had studied the infamous prophecy, built up a few side businesses, including one he found particularly lucrative, deep in the Outer Rim, positioned strategically on the boy's ill-fated home planet, and had sunk into the darkness, waiting, looking for just the correct opportunity to pounce. And then, he had.

"Calm, Anakin." Here and now, Anakin is wiggling a little, growing restless trying to split his energy between recollecting the past and focusing on the present. "Only the 'now,'" Obi-Wan reminds him, and it's what Qui-Gon would have said. Together, they synchronize their breathing, moving further and further into the comforting embrace of the Light. Here, there is no pain, no agony, no fear of loss, just the pure, effervescent Force, filling them with its love. Here, Anakin can feel Obi-Wan behind him, and around him, on an entirely different level; here, he can feel Master Qui-Gon's spirit as well, restless and wild, yet incredibly kind. If he wanted to, he could probably even reach out further and try to connect with his mom ... he shakes his head, however. Not the time, not yet. 

As if on cue, he feels as though there is suddenly a giant orb of light behind his eyes, dancing, flashing before him. Then, behind it, there is another, ebbing and flowing with its own energy, not quite aligned yet with his, though he feels as though the two should be connected. "Yes, Anakin, good. Move the spheres together. Can you feel them pulse? Do you even grasp how powerful you are to be able to do this at such an age? You have so much potential, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice seems to echo; its encouraging tenor seems to help, and soon, the spheres are dutifully moving closer, obeying his whims, until finally, they overlap completely, sparkling, otherworldly, them. "Beautiful," Obi-Wan gasps out, and Anakin feels as though he is floating, even though he's quite sure he's still quite firmly perched on the floor of their shared apartment. "Okay, Anakin, that's good," his Master instructs, and then it's only a matter of releasing one sphere back into the beyond. Then they both disappear, and Anakin is stretching and opening his eyes anew, the warm, late-afternoon sun streaming through the large front window of their living quarters.

"Master, wow." Obi-Wan still looks luminous, somehow, blessed by the welcoming Light of the Force. His skin still glows; his spirit sings. "Thank you for showing me that," he says shyly, twisting a little so that he's facing Obi-Wan nearly head-on.

Obi-Wan pats his hands. "Thank you, Anakin." His hand comes up, then, a finger running across the boy's bottom lip, caressing the tiny scab that still blemishes it. "That's looking better," he murmurs, and then seems to refocus his attention, as he has instructed the boy to do, on the present. "You are strong and wise, Anakin, and when you show me what you can do with the Force already, I wonder what I have left to even teach you."

Anakin just smiles. However, the lead-in is too perfect not to take, and he's never been a particularly subtle boy, so he does, scrabbling a little for purchase until he's able to lean in and a little bit up, capturing Obi-Wan's lips in his for a soft kiss. "Padawan ..." Obi-Wan warns for the second time that day in that voice, both questioning and lambasting, and Anakin blinks at him almost shyly.

"You said I needed to just ask if I wanted something from you, Master ... so I'm asking. I like your kisses, I like kissing you. Omega never wanted me to kiss - he would always say the best whores don't take any pleasure of their own. But I'm not a whore -"

"No, you most certainly are not," Obi-Wan agreed.

"And so I want to practice kissing, Master. With you."

"Anakin ..."

"Your beard tickles my face."

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice is faintly exasperated, though the barest hint of a smile shows through his (admittedly, ticklish, according to various other sources, as well) scruff. "Of course you're not a whore, and you should be able to explore the confines of your sexuality safely and openly, so long as it does not interfere with your ability to abide by the Jedi Code. But ..."

"Here it comes," Anakin says glumly, which once again stops Obi-Wan in his tracks mid-speech. "Master, c'mon, I know what I want and I'm trying to follow your rules," he says, and then switches tactics: "How old were you when you and Master Qui-Gon first -"

"All right, all right." Obi-Wan holds up a hand. "I will show you this if you just stop pulling the Qui-Gon card." He leans in a little, and Anakin's heart races.

"Okay, but I mean, were you my age, were you even youn- ohhh." His Master's mouth, willing at last, sealing over his is incredible, and Anakin moans and opens wide when Obi-Wan's tongue probes lightly for entrance beyond the boy's lips. Kissing Obi-Wan is nothing like Omega forcing himself on him, and Anakin's eyes flutter closed when his Master tilts his chin, re-angling their faces for even better access. It's over far too soon, in his opinion, though it still takes him a few moments to catch his breath when Obi-Wan breaks it off. 

"There," the older man smiles. "Is that sufficient now?"

There's a moment when Anakin thinks to strive for more, when he believes he could just take it, could convince Obi-Wan to jerk him off or something while Anakin sprawled messily in his lap, planting little butterfly kisses along his throat. However, he does not want to ruin that which he has only just attained, and anyways, another idea soon comes to mind: "Maybe for my Indulgence Day, we could ... you know," he trails off purposefully, not wanting to scare Obi-Wan off by being too lewd.

Even so, his Master appears to pale a little. "Indulgence Day," Obi-Wan says dully, and it's not precisely the reaction Anakin had been hoping for. "Anakin, Indulgence Day is supposed to be for -"

"For the Master to give the Padawan something he or she has been wishing for," Anakin finishes, and it's a messy summary at best, but still mostly accurate. "And I can't think of anything I could want more." Again, it's not precisely the truth; he could ask for Obi-Wan to assist in freeing his mom, for a visit with Queen - now, Senator, he's heard - Amidala on Naboo, but these are gifts that Obi-Wan is even less-equipped to be able to give him. "Master, I want you to make stuff like this fun for me again, not just something I did because Granta Omega made me do it. I want you to be my first. Like, my first where it really counts."

Obi-Wan looks pensive. "It would certainly be an indulgence," he says at last. He takes a deep breath and meets Anakin's gaze squarely. "If that is what you still wish for when you turn seventeen, I will try to accommodate it," he says at last, and Anakin's hug is compulsive, squishing most of the air from his lungs. "Silly boy," he chides, and pats the Padawan's back a little.

Anakin's gaze is mischievous when he pulls away. "So is your Indulgence Day when you and Qui-Gon finally fu-" The finger on his lips quiets him, however.

"When the time is right, we'll discuss the things I wish for you to know about the nature of love and being a Jedi." Obi-Wan pats his cheek. "Don't try to grow up too fast, young one," he murmurs, and Anakin nods and tells himself to be satisfied with that, for now.


End file.
